


Infinite

by servantofclio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: Mirror after mirror after mirror, the Crossroads stretch on without apparent end.





	

Mirror after mirror after mirror, the Crossroads stretch on without apparent end.

Morrigan paces the paths as wolf or panther, her baby swaddled securely and strapped to her back. Strange to others, perhaps; but she goes more swiftly on four legs than two. Besides, it is a relief and a joy to change her form, after the last months of her pregnancy. Then, she dared not change, too conscious of the life within her; certainly not to raven or spider or any creature without a womb. For months she had stayed in one shape for the sake of her child. Heavy and swelling, she would have resented every moment of it, but for the growing awareness of that spark, that soul, that she carried inside her.

That awareness stays with her now; she feels every sigh and squirm and burble of the bundled babe she carries now. She feeds him when he requires it, and her wolf- or panther-self curls around him when they both must sleep, keeping him warm and safe and secure in this land where worlds meet.

She last saw his father after the battle, but when she remembers him, she thinks of that night their child was conceived. Many times before they had lain together and taken their pleasure of one another, and if she had had to teach him aught of how best to please her, she had found him a willing enough pupil, and so counted herself satisfied. That last night, there had been no need for such pleasantries, only for the act of congress itself.

Yet he had shown as much attention to her then as before, and when, the act finished, she had made to move from the bed, he had wrapped one thick arm around her waist, hand splayed over her belly. She had not expected that tenderness from him, known more for his bluntness and ferocity than his kindness.

Morrigan thinks of that tenderness when she looks into her son’s eyes, and wonders whether his hair will come in dark or fair, if that soft unformed baby face will come to have the look of his father.

Mirror after mirror after mirror, and every mirror a door. Some of them broken, some of them barred, some of them locked with keys now lost. She finds her way past some of them, even so. She finds a sanctuary with iron gates and wolves painted on the wall; she finds a hall of bones, the scene of some long-ago slaughter; she finds ancient groves, a wasteland of ash, and even an apparently ordinary city, where a woman walking alone with a child attracts no notice.

Her son takes delight in all of it, and loves her animal forms as well as herself, reaching out to her whether she is woman or panther or raven. She thinks he has the look of his father about his eyes, and then chides herself for such sentimental foolishness.

He follows them even now, she thinks, lying awake one night, listening to her child breathe, his body warm and relaxed, tucked into the curve of her own. She left a trail, coming to this place, and if he follows with that stubbornness that carried a motley party through the Blight, she knows where his trail will end.

One more meeting, after all, she decides. She will give him one last chance to choose, and perhaps her son will know his father after all.


End file.
